


i have always been standing in your doorway

by ahana



Series: For Marta [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: I hope you still like it!!, M/M, Spiderman AU, Yeah I have no idea what this is either, i had a dream about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 13:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahana/pseuds/ahana
Summary: “Who are you?”“You know who I am.”“I do?”“Your friendly roommate, Spiderman.”or, a Spiderman!Evak AU (sorta).





	i have always been standing in your doorway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vorfm95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorfm95/gifts).



> This is a very loose Spiderman AU. Meaning Isak is Spiderman, and that’s about all this fic shares with the actual plot of the comic or the movies. Oh, and of course, the famous conversation between MJ and Peter Parker. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title is from Spiderman 2. 
> 
> TW: Lots of swearing.

Even is rudely woken up to a crash that sounds like a car came speeding through his living room and broke his beloved TV into at least three pieces.

 

It’s the TV part of the nightmarish thought that pulls him out of bed.

 

Usually, he’d wait for his roommate to do the inspecting, seeing as how he never sleeps and works odd hours that allow him to lay in bed till noon and go to sleep at around 4 a.m. He’s always more willing to inspect strange noises and leaky faucets, anyway, than Even is. But that’s because he’s Isak Valtersen.

 

He’s a fucking enigma.

 

Even has no idea what he does for a living (seriously, he’d asked once and all he got was a whole lot of mumbling) but he knows that no twenty-year-old should look _that_ stressed out. Isak always seems to have bags under his eyes, carrying a coffee mug with him everywhere, and his hair always seems flattened like he has a hat permanently stitched onto his head but Even’s never even seen him in normal clothes, let alone a hat. It’s like all Isak owns are sweatpants and the occasional football jersey with a Cheetos stain on it.

 

However, that’s not to say that Isak Valtersen wasn’t appealing. Oh no. See, that’s the very problem of Even’s existence.

 

Isak is beautiful, with golden curls falling onto his forehead perfectly and lips that Even wants to kiss the bloody life out of. He has a wild sense of humor (no, Even’s not saying that because he’s halfway in love with him already) and has never been seen without coffee or a large book about some physics theory. He’s _smart_ and beautiful. And, of course there are his eyes. Even swears he could stare at them for the rest of his measly hipster artistic life; green eyes that strangely reminded Even of the spring trees in his parents’ back yard that he played under as a child. Is that weird? Yeah, that’s weird.

 

Needless to say, he has become the subject of every one of Even’s art assignments and his professor is slowly getting pissed.

 

Even wonders where Isak is right now, and why he isn’t already barging into his room to give him a full report of the noise from their shared living room. Usually, Isak is the jumpiest person he knows. The man can wake up if a pin drops in a room across the building. It’s surprising that Even can’t hear him walking past his room. Besides, outside of his bed, Isak spends most of his time either in the library or in front of their TV cursing at virtual football players in a way that would make his grandma cry. You’d think he’d care about the TV enough to get up and take a look at the strange noise.

 

Another noise rings through the apartment, this time closer to Even’s door. It sounds like a drunk person trying to walk through a maze of glass, clinking and clanging with every step they take.

 

Even grabs his glasses from his bedside table and clumsily places them on his face, pushing them back to search for his phone. He pulls his duvet off of him, and stumbles slightly onto the floor. There’s clothes and papers lying everywhere and Even figures he has two days till his mum visits and makes him clean his “pig sty.”

 

**_4:24_ **

 

The numbers on his phone scream at him and Even feels a wave of anger course through his body. Who the fuck robs a house in the early hours of the day? Who the fuck is awake this early, anyway? Geez, at least break into the house at like 22:00 so that Even’s sleep isn’t disturbed, for Christ’s sake.

 

Even puts his slippers on and opens the door, ready to march into the living room and give the intruder a piece of his sleep-dazed mind when, all of a sudden, he bumps into something right outside his door. Pain sears through his nose and stars dance in front of his eyes as his hand flies up to cover his face. He lets out a shriek that could break glass, but he can’t be the least bit bothered when his head feels like it is spinning on his neck, like a top.

 

“Shit,” a voice muttered above him, “Even, are you okay?”

 

Even’s eyes flutter open and he sees the figure of a man’s head hanging in front of him. _Hanging_ is the only appropriate word for it, seeing as how the man seems to currently be suspended from the ceiling upside down in front of Even’s face, his nose awkwardly caressing Even’s cheek. As Even’s eyes adjust to the darkness, he notices the man is wearing a red and blue body suit and sits crouched on the ceiling, supported only by the balls of their feet. Even lets his eyes trail across the man’s figure until he reaches his inverted head, following the blurred lines of his lips and nose until Even’s eyes widen to the size of his mother’s saucers.

 

There is no way Even could mistake those golden curls for anything else. Absolutely no way.

 

But it couldn’t be, because what the _actual fuck._

 

“Who are you?” Even yells, in the man’s face.  

 

“You know who I am.” The man sounds a little exasperated but that could be because he has a twenty-three-year-old lanky person demanding answers from him with his face nearly stuck to his own.

 

“I do?”

 

Even cocks his head to the right involuntarily. It’s his usual tell for when he’s confused or lying about something.

 

“Your friendly roommate, Spiderman.”

 

“Roomma-,” Even breaks off as realization strikes him. The curls, the lips, the voice, the roommate, _fuck._

 

“What the fu– Isak? How the fuck are you hanging from the ceiling?”

 

“Remember the whole Spiderman thing? Yeah, that helps,” Isak says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, “Now look, I –”

 

“What the fuck,” Even mutters, trying to catch his bearings, “How the hell?”

 

“Radioactive spider, Even. It was on the news a while back, remember?”

 

“Radioacti- Fuck. So, this whole time that I thought you were working odd jobs you were saving the city,” Even says, awed. His head is swimming and he has so many questions. Even doesn’t know where to begin. “How did it happen? Did it hurt? How did you keep it a secret from me for so long? Did you lie to me? Are you lying to me right now? Wait, where were you just now? Did you go beat up same bad guys? Holy shit, wait you know the Avengers then, right? You’ve met –”

 

Even is rudely interrupted for the second time that night, only this time it’s by the rough brush of lips against his own. The kiss is upside down, with Isak’s nose brushing against Even’s forehead softly. Isak is pushing against him slowly, in perfect juxtaposition with his gruff lips.  It’s unexpectedly rough and Even, involuntarily, kisses back just hard. It feels like a game of give and take, with Isak taking all that Even has to offer, slowly pulling it out of him. The world could end and hell, their TV could crash and burn, but Even’s not about to move from his spot under Isak’s lips. It’s nothing like he thought it would be, and Even couldn’t be happier about that.

 

Slowly, Isak pulls back, seemingly stunned at his own actions. Even wants to inch forward and capture Isak’s lips between his again but something inside him stops him for doing just that. Instead, he opens his eyes and blinks lightly in the wake of the kiss. He watches as Isak does the same, sighing as he pulls himself together as quickly as he can. Isak looks at him, with worry painted in his eyes and Even can’t have that, can he?

 

So, he surges forward once again, pushing his fears and insecurities to the side as he reaches for Isak’s neck. He runs his hands along Isak’s cheekbones, watching as Isak lets out a silent whimper. Green eyes stare at him behind hooded eyelids and Even has no words for the feelings swimming inside him as he strokes every inch of Isak’s face gently. He lets his lips hover over Isak’s as he relishes in breathing the same air as him, thinking about how long he’s wanted to do this, and then pushes his lips against Isak’s.

 

It’s 4:24. Time is at a standstill, perhaps because of the radioactive spider or perhaps because of the two boys kissing in the doorway.  


End file.
